dolce far niente

 

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the italians have a phrase called “dolce far niente”, which loosely translates to “the sweetness of doing nothing”. in many ways, the phrase represents the overarching lesson I learnt from 2018;

when I attach too much value to any one particular outcome, it is very painful to not see that outcome through to fruition, yet who is to say whether that outcome was as important as I believe it to be? after all, my knowledge is limited and it’s not until after something has happened that I learn that lesson;

most of the wonderful things to happen to me this year happened because I wasn’t planning on doing it, my half-marathon, my tattoo, a spontaneous trip to Hong Kong, and becoming a cat-mama;

the only message I have for Tracy in 2019 is to embrace not knowing, embrace not planning, and that it is very sweet indeed to do nothing;

 

 

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it is a nice story, but.

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Whenever I am feeling dissatisfied with an external facet of my life, it helps to look inwards.

A gentle reminder to myself to spend more time on standards, which are fact, and less time on expectations, which are just stories and sometimes bear little semblance to reality.

found

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“When someone seeks, then it easily happens that his eyes see only the thing that he seeks, and he is able to find nothing, to take in nothing because he always thinks only about the thing he is seeking, because he has one goal, because he is obsessed with his goal.

Seeking means: having a goal.

But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal.”

solo

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counting (2)

counting (24)

counting (70)

is life just about filling in the time between countdowns?

isn’t that kind of a sham?

oh well

 

 

 

 

 

 

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last time

the biting chill of incoming winter, winning lottery numbers, black leather gloved hand under an unmarked door, a view more pleasing than any natural imagery, what finger do swingers wear their wedding ring? cloudy french liquor and unpronounceable ingredient names, beautiful cocktail waitresses pulling down their miniscule skirts every third step, white-haired men in expensive suits undoubtedly talking about something involving money, being too scared to fully commit, tiny pink chairs and even tinier gucci bags, kind eyes that crinkle around the edges, a chivalrous black jacket, please understand why i am afraid without making me explain why, and of course the deep crevices of my own mind;

 

tell your loved ones

that you love them,

and hold on tight;

it’s cold outside

 

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a year ago today, i moved out of my home of 5 years with only a day’s notice. it wasn’t one thing in particular, but rather a growing realization that begun as a whisper and grew into an irrepressible roar that the life i was living was not the one meant for me. stepping out of my comfort zone was the scariest thing I ever did. because no one could convince me it was the right choice, and in the end it was only my gut propelling me forward.

since then, so many things have happened to me. so many endless nights. my front door that always seems to be opening and closing. laughter. so many tears. pain. hurt. regret. and oh my god the fucking anxiety that accompanied all of the uncertainty.

it was a rollercoaster.

 

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